Best Christmas Ever
by Literary Assassin
Summary: Miranda is having Christmas on her own... until she isn't.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello. A Christmas oneshot thing to brighten your day. It's a tad late I know, but I only started it yesterday so it's cool haha. Happy Christmas to all who celebrate and Happy holidays to those who don't. hope you all like it! **

**This has not been beta-d and is NOT part of the More than just Baggage story, which coincidentally is also coming soon. My beta works retail and that explains it all really. Spare a thought for her doing a gazillion hour days :(**

-0-

"Mommy?"

Miranda froze. There was nobody in the townhouse and she was depressed. The girls had gone with their father for Christmas, something that hardly ever happened, but he promised a trip to the _Frozen_ themed Disney World Christmas extravaganza, and despite their repeated assurances that they were not babies anymore, they went with bright little smiles.

The salutation therefore was rather worrying.

Miranda looked at Patricia and frowned when the dog didn't even move. The noise was alien to their household and her usually alert guard dog was snoring on her feet.

"Patricia, come."

The dog huffed, but did her bidding as she descended the stairs. There was a small sound, a hiss and then a bang that had Miranda quickening her steps.

_**Crash!**_

"Andréa?"

Miranda was gobsmacked. Andréa was sitting on the floor, cradling a sobbing child in her arms with the remnants of a vase her ex-mother-in-law had given as a wedding-present all around her.

"Miranda, I, I'm so sorry. I can explain. I'll replace it, I promise. You can dock my pay until I pay it off."

At this the young woman looked sick, and Miranda remembered all too well the thought of being docked one's pay when you were struggling. It occurred to Miranda that she wasn't angry at all. If she was honest with herself she could acknowledge that she had not found the will to be angry at Andréa for anything for a long time.

"Andréa, calm down." Miranda said gently, not wanting to spook either person on her hallway floor. "I never liked that vase anyway."

A flash of something went across Andréa's face and a little head popped up and looked at her.

"Whoa," the little one said.

"Andréa? Who -"

"You're w'ite Mommy, she's boodiful!"

Miranda chuckled at the small child who was buried under about 4 layers of snow gear on account of the sub zero temperatures and buckets of snow they'd received the night before. Seeing Andréa's pink cheeks in the hall lights made Miranda's heart flutter.

"Will you come in for a hot drink? I imagine it's a bit late for a," she glanced at the child, "h-o-t c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e?"

Andy smiled gently and rolled her eyes.

"We shouldn't," Andréa said looking at her watch. "We have to be back by a certain time."

"Nonsense," Miranda said. "I can hardly see you slumped on my floor and not offer you something warm. Is it really that late?"

"No, It's not," Andréa sighed. "We have a long way to get, um where we're going. The warmth would do us good, but we really can't stay long."

"Well then, by all means, come in. Coats in the closet and I'll get started in the kitchen."

Miranda walked away before Andréa could answer, placing a saucepan on the stove and pushing buttons on her coffee machine.

"Actually Miranda, you really don't have to do this," the young woman said from the doorway. "We can get out of your hair."

"Am I in the habit of making false gestures Andréa?"

"No Miranda," she whispered.

"Sit down then."

"Yes Miranda."

Silence reigned over the kitchen with on the gas stove hissing as it heated the hot chocolate. Miranda was concentrating on stirring, and not on demanding to know whose child was in her care. The cry she'd heard earlier would suggest that it was in fact Andréa's but she was sure that it was impossible. The girl had run ragged in the first stages of her employment, and with the aberration that was Paris, had been and continued to be, the best assistant Miranda had had bar none. That was just over a year ago now and the child couldn't be _that_ old, three, maybe four. She had surely not done all that with a small child at home on an assistants wage.

"Mommy?"

Miranda glanced behind her and saw finally the little one accompanying Andréa without her layers on. It was undoubtedly Andréa's child, a carbon copy, save for perhaps the chin. Miranda winked at the little girl and took down one of her favourite mugs, pouring some of the not-yet-hot chocolate in so it would not burn.

"Can we s'eep here tonight? It's nice. I don't wanna go to va shell-ta."

Miranda spun around and looked at Andréa, really looked. The young woman squirmed in her seat, bowing her head as her shoulders shook. So many thought rushed through Miranda's head as she looked at the broken posture of her favourite assistant.

"Andréa, what is she talking about?"

"We have to w-ive there now that Daddy's d-on away. He didn't w-ike me," the little girl said.

"Sweetheart," Miranda said, kneeling on her kitchen floor so that she could look straight into the child's eyes. "I doubt that your Daddy went away because he didn't like you. I like you, and I'm a very good judge of character."

The little girl beamed and took a sip of her hot chocolate, humming in delight and smiling with her chocolate mustache.

"Coffee or hot chocolate Andréa?" Miranda asked quietly.

It was such a foreign situation, Miranda wasn't sure what to do. Andréa and her had shared the odd loaded glance; had brushed fingers occasionally, but Miranda was under the assumption that Andréa was taken and had thought nothing of it. Now, however, things seemed a lot less sure.

"Caffeine is bad for the -" she muttered, stopping mid sentence and slapping her hand across her mouth. Miranda frowned for a moment, wondering at the reaction, before understanding in a moment of absolute clarity.

"Andréa, I think we should have a little chat."

"No, it's okay, we'll go," Andréa said quickly, already getting up. "I apologise once again and I," she sniffed, "I'll find a way of paying you back."

"I don' wanna go Mommy," the little girl protested.

"Then you should have listened to me and stayed quiet," Andréa said firmly, but not spitefully.

It was clear to Miranda that the woman was at the end of her tether; how she had not seen it before, she did not know.

"Andréa," she called as the woman disappeared around the corner. "Andréa don't go, have some hot chocolate, food. Then we'll talk."

"I can't," she said, a sob escaping as she reached for her things. "I can't do this with you."

"With me? I am not without a heart Andréa," Miranda said, more than a little hurt. "I had thought that you and I were -" she trailed off, not sure what they were.

"No, it's not that," she hissed, pulling her coat of a hanger with very little regard for the fabric. "It's not all about you."

Miranda's eyes nearly popped out of her head and she took a step back.

"I understand it's not all about me, but please Andréa, please stay. You may spend the night if you must, in fact," she kicked herself for not offering before. "You are more than welcome to."

"You want me, a lowly assistant to stay here, in your house?" Andréa laughed. "The last time I even went up the stairs, you nearly fired me."

"We have come a long way since then," Miranda said, stepping back from the situation. If she got as angry as Andréa was, then there would be no resolution and she would not get what she wanted, which was Andréa, upstairs in her den with a plate of food before her.

"Miranda."

"Do I have to order you to stay here Andréa?" Miranda said dangerously. "Because we both know that I am not beyond that."

It seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back, and Andréa dropped her hand from where she was trying to wrestle her daughter's coat from the hanger.

"I -"

"I know," Miranda said quietly. "Come."

It was the first time she'd touched her assistant, properly. The odd brush up against each other had not counted, and Miranda then felt how thin Andréa was.

"You need to eat," Miranda said firmly, retaking control of the situation with a look when Andréa looked as if she wanted to argue. "Tea and toast? I have a range of herbal?"

"I," she sighed as they entered the kitchen and found her daughter curled up on the floor with Patricia watching over her. "Fine."

Miranda nodded, nodding to a chair.

"I ordinarily would say you should move her, but she looks sound asleep and the floor is quite clean."

Andréa snorted, the first smile Miranda had seen all day, if she thought back.

"I cannot imagine your kitchen floor being anything but spotless Miranda," she paused, running her finger along a crack in the country style table. "She's slept on worse."

The thought made Miranda wince and she set about boiling the water and setting the toaster. It didn't take long and when Miranda thought about it, she was sure she hadn't had dinner, and so made herself some as well. Andréa's face was priceless as she sat down with her, sporting nutella on her own.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted it," Miranda smirked, passing over the jar and a knife.

"Who are you?" Andréa giggled, spreading a liberal amount on the bread.

The feeling was suddenly so domestic. Granted, nothing that Miranda had ever imagined, toast and nutella with Andréa while the woman's child napped on her dog. That was something she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams, but it still had that dreamlike feel to it. Miranda sipped her tea and watched Andréa eat. She tried to think back to work over the last few weeks. She hadn't noticed anything different about Andréa at all, but she knew that was her fault, rather than a lack of there being differences. What little she did notice during their busy run up to Christmas made her believe that Andréa had been struggling for a while, and had pushed on regardless, as only a mother could.

Andréa's yawn disturbed her thoughts and she realised that any talk would have to be postponed.

"Do you have things with you for her?" Miranda asked, smiling as Patricia lay her head on the child's knee. "What is her name by the way?"

"Kayla," Andréa said absently. "Well, Michaela. And I have some things," she paused awkwardly. "They don't allow us to store things at the shelter."

"Why didn't," she stopped herself, knowing exactly why Andréa hadn't said anything. "Never mind."

"I'll lose our place now," the woman said quietly. "We had the place over Christmas. It's so busy and there are fights and people coming down and -"

"Well," Miranda said, more than horrified. "That settles it, you'll stay here over Christmas. The girls, as you know, are away and I am here on my own. You don't even have to see me if you wish. I will keep to the upper levels and you may -"

"God, just stop," Andréa said looking horrified. "Of course I want to see you. Miranda, I'm not," she huffed. "I'm not kicking you out of your own home. This is your house, we'll just take one room, if you're sure, and we'll keep to it."

"Well," Miranda said, stifling a yawn. "We can work out the details tomorrow. How about I carry the little one and you may bring your bags?"

"I, she's pretty heavy," Andréa whispered, her hand against her stomach, "though I'm not supposed to, the doctor -"

"I shall be alright."

Her usual certain tone made Andréa nod and move away from the table. On the one hand, Miranda was dreading picking the child up and then traversing the three flights of stairs, but on the other hand, to do this for Andréa, especially after so long since her twins were this small, her heart melted a little.

"Sweetheart, can you stand up for me?"

The child, predictably, was barely awake as she climbed into Miranda's arms. Bracing herself, Miranda pushed up slowly, letting out a breath of relief as she stood to her full height. It felt good to have the weight of a child in her arms again. It was the one regret she had, not that her career would have allowed it, but as soon as the twins had been placed in her arms, she'd wanted to do it all again. The thoughts had frightened her, and she had ignored them, concentrating only on the babies she had, and her budding editorship. Both bloomed under her careful care, but the thought remained, in the back of her mind.

"Oh," Andréa said, seeing them in the hallway. "I was going to come and help."

"Nonsense," Miranda smirked. "I told you, I am more than capable."

"Of course," Andréa laughed. "You had two of them at once!"

"That was something," Miranda mused, nodding to the stairs. "Come, you're tired, this one's asleep. I shall get you situated."

They walked in silence to the second floor, where Miranda paused, contemplating where to put her guests.

"Upstairs I think," she muttered, smoothing Michaela's hair as she stirred.

"Miranda, I really -"

"Trust me Andréa," Miranda said, hoping she instilled more believability into her words than she felt.

Her thoughts were a little all over the place, something that did not happen very often. She had intended to put them in rooms downstairs, and once she'd made the decision to put them in the room down the hall from her, she'd found herself leading them to the room next door to her own.

"This is our best guest room," she muttered. "And the largest. If it's agreeable," Miranda contemplated. "Would you prefer Michaela to have her own room?"

"No, no it's fine. I," Andréa yawned. "Sorry, she's fine with me."

"Alright," Miranda nodded, thankful she'd finally decided. "Then we're agreed."

"Do I," Andréa sighed as Miranda placed the child down on the bed, smoothing back her hair as she did so, smiling at such an innocent little thing. "What would you like me to do in the morning, when do you want me to go?"

"Go?" Miranda asked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't stay here all day, and you deserve some time off, with the Twins not here, and everything I can't imagine -"

"Andréa, tomorrow shall be the same as every morning for me while the girls are not here. I will simply be contemplating what to do on my own. Please, for the love of God, come and talk to me."

Andréa chuckled and nodded.

"Yes Miranda," she smiled. "I'm not sure how to thank you for this."

The whisper broke Miranda's heart and she stepped forward before realising that she had.

"Rest now," she said, reaching out to squeeze Andréa's all-too-thin bicep. "We'll talk tomorrow, and please, rest easy tonight. The house is fully alarmed; I have never had a break in in all the years we've lived here."

"They wouldn't dare," Andréa chuckled, the sparkle in her eye coming back for just a moment.

"Cheeky," Miranda smirked. "Good night Andréa."

"Good night Miranda," Andréa sighed. "And truly. You don't know what you're doing for us. It's," she nodded. "It's really special."

"Sleep well," Miranda said, backing out of the room and closing the door.

Everything Andréa needed was in the bathroom attached to the room and there was nothing left for her to do except lock up the house and try to coax Patricia off her bed. It happened every night the girls weren't around and though she tried to dissuade the big dog, Miranda secretly loved feeling Patricia's warm body heat on her feet. Smiling and ruffling the big dog's ears, she made her own preparations for bed and settled down, not even able to read a few pages of her novel before closing her eyes.

For the first time in so long, she fell asleep smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke the next morning to a giggle that was unfamiliar. It took her a few minutes of trying to ignore it, before she cracked open her eyes and looked around. She gaped at the scene before her. There was a small child on her bed, putting barrettes in Patricia's fur. Luckily, Miranda had had Patricia before the girls had made their appearance, so she was well acquainted with hair pulling and small children. Miranda chuckled, remembering the mischief her own two got up to when they were about Michaela's age.

"Good morning little sunshine," she said groggily.

"Hi, what's your name pwetty w-ady?"

Miranda couldn't help it, she laughed at the line and for one reason or another, patted the spot beside her. Michaela smiled and scooted up the bed, but not before leaving a big kiss on Patricia's nose.

"My name is Miranda," she answered.

"I'm Kaywa. My Mommy said that I have to be good. Am I being good Miwanda?"

She winced at the attempt on her name, but didn't say anything. The child was too cute for words and she found herself unable to care how she said her name.

"I think so," Miranda said, uncharacteristically short on answers. "Have you been snooping through the house?"

"No," the little girl blinked.

"Drawn on any walls?"

"Nope."

"Raided my fridge?"

"No."

"Left your Mother without telling her?"

"Well, I didn't actuawy not te-w her," Michaela said with a wince. "But I's wiv you now, so it's otay."

Miranda chuckled again, unable to find a problem with that logic. Remembering her own two, she wondered if Michaela was up for good now, or would soon succumb to sleep once more.

"Would you like to get under the covers?" she asked, noticing the frigid air outside the bed for the first time. She glanced down at the little feet, sans socks, and reached out to check how cool they were. "Gracious child, you're frozen. You'll turn into a ice cube. Under the covers with you please."

"Otay," Michaela grinned, scampering head first under the covers. After a little bit of scurrying, Miranda found her again, as her head popped back out, not too far away. "It's warm in here," she smiled.

"It is," Miranda agreed. "Lay still now, alright?"

Miranda could already see her eyes drooping and lay very still until they closed of their own accord. The warm covers and the soft bed had done the trick and she pulled on her robe, nipping to the loo before settling down to read some of her novel until Andréa noticed she had lost something.

She heard the frantic foot steps on the balcony above the stairs and called out softly.

"Andréa?"

She knew the thought of entering your boss' bedroom was a scary thought - especially when your boss was herself, but she wanted Andréa to feel at peace here. That seemed to be important, thought she couldn't work out why. She realised belatedly that she didn't have an make-up on either; it was a sobering thought.

"Oh my gosh, Miranda, I'm so sorry, I don't know how she got out, I'd tried to make sure she couldn't. I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright Andréa, she woke me as she was styling Patricia's hair - not the first time a child or two has done so - I coaxed her under the covers as her feet were cold. I do hope I have not overstepped."

"God," Andréa groaned, dropping to sit on the bed quite heavily. "My life is a shit heap," she winced. "Sorry, not at all. Thank you for taking care of her."

"Quite alright," Miranda said, placing her bookmark. "Do you need to eat yet? It's been a long time since I had morning sickness."

"Thank everybody who's watching over me," she crossed fingers on both hands and showed Miranda, blushing afterwards at the childish gesture. "No morning sickness."

"How far?"

"Eleven weeks," she whispered. "I, I nearly, when it was really bad wished -"

There were tears in Andréa's eyes, but Miranda wasn't sure what she meant and how it was upsetting.

"Kayla was a surprise too, but we were stable back then. We were both poor as dirt, but we were happy. What kind of mother wishes that her unborn child," she gulped as she dissolved into tears, "wasn't."

"Andréa," Miranda whispered, getting up to join her erstwhile assistant at the foot of the bed. "It's not a sin to think these things, especially in times of stress. You, of all people Andréa, can never be accused of being malicious or nasty. I do not believe it's in your character. Have you gone out of the way to hurt yourself, or your baby?"

"No," she said quietly.

"Then there is nothing to it."

"I knew you were different at home," she muttered. "The girls could not have turned out so well if you weren't," she paled when she realised what she'd said. "I mean -"

"I know very well what you mean," Miranda said gently. "The way I act at Runway is not the way to raise children - procure the best from people who don't beige on themselves? Definitely, but not for children."

"You're pretty amazing you know," Andréa whispered. Miranda was about to answer, but Andrea had already moved to the door. "May I get you a cup of coffee?"

"You may," Miranda smirked letting the subject go. "Mugs are in the cupboard over the knife block, tea next to them."

"I'll work it out," Andréa smiled, leaving Miranda with her child without a thought.

Miranda leant back against the covers and delved into her mind. The thoughts that she had ignored previously were overwhelming once she let them have the space to move and grow. The idea of Andréa in trouble, living in a shelter through Christmas made her growl, and she chuckled in surprise of herself. Somewhere between the awfulness that was Paris, and the brilliance of all that came after those four missing days, she'd fallen in love with Andréa Sachs.

"Here you are," Andréa smiled.

"Thank you," Miranda said quietly. "Perhaps we'd be better taking this in the sitting room next door. You'll like it, I'm sure."

Andréa shrugged and followed Miranda into the room on the other side of Miranda's. And the Editor was right, Andréa's gasp made her smile, even as she snuggled into her favourite seat.

"Wow," Andréa whispered.

"It is rather isn't it," Miranda chuckled at the gleeful smile Andréa was wearing. The room was small, cozy, but dark and snug, save for one floor to ceiling, wall to wall window that looked out over the houses to their East and into Central Park.

"I would give my soul for just one room like this," Andréa said, forgetting her tea and walking over to the bookshelves.

Contrary to her Runway persona, _home_ Miranda was not quite so organised. At work, she knew where everything was, and woe betide whoever knocked that order into chaos. At home, however, she liked things a little less rigid. As such, her library shelves, both in this room and the one downstairs were overflowing with books that were in no order. They were not even all the right way. Andréa turned to look at her, and Miranda couldn't help but laugh.

"They're in no order. Occasionally I take the step-ladder and move the top shelf ones onto the bottom, so we read them instead, but all of our favourite books are in the middle there, and downstairs in the sitting room."

"I quite like this side of you," Andréa said quietly.

Miranda's breath hitched and she wondered whether Andréa had picked up her feelings. She found it unlikely as she'd only just realised them herself, so she merely shrugged and sipped her coffee.

"Oh," she moaned. The temperature was perfect, the taste. Everything about it was perfect and she groaned again when she took another sip. "What am I going to do without you?" she muttered absently.

"I -"

Miranda looked up to see Andréa trailing her fingers forlornly over the books. Miranda watched her for a moment, wondering at the turn of mood until she realised what she'd said.

"Oh, Andréa," she chuckled. "I'm not firing you," Miranda clarified.

Andréa ran her hands through her long hair, and Miranda knew that the time to talk was now, while the little one was asleep, being watched over by Patricia.

"Come, sit." Miranda said, patting the sofa next to her.

"I -"

"No no," Miranda interrupted, patting Andréa's hand. "Let me talk, and then you can, alright?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Andréa said quietly.

"I'm doing whichever is what you need."

Andréa chuckled and nodded, settling back against the sofa, turning just a little towards her.

"You had your child when you first worked for me, she was living with you I mean?" Miranda asked, eager to clarify that one part.

"I," Andréa frowned. "Yes, I've had her since she was born."

"No, you misunderstand," Miranda smirked, detecting the _surely-you're-not-that-stupid_ tone of voice Andrea used. "I meant that while I was running you ragged in that first," she shrugged, "year of your employment, you had a baby at home?"

"She's not really a baby, and she understood. Nate looked after her to begin with, but," she winced. "We weren't making enough money." Miranda nodded, but didn't say anything, letting Andréa continue with the story. "By that time, I'd moved into the enlightened stage, as I like to call it, and I had a few favours I could call in. It pays to be nice sometimes," she muttered, looking up immediately. "I didn't mean -"

"I know you didn't mean it maliciously, but you're right all the same. I wouldn't know."

"You're nice to me," Andréa said quietly, as if only just realising it. "You're," she paused, looking up and studying Miranda's face. "You're _really_ nice to me."

"Yes, well. Don't spread it around, they'll commit you," Miranda grinned at her own joke. Andréa didn't though, and she looked as if she wa going to say more on the topic. "Don't change the subject. What happened."

"Oh, well we were too poor to put her in a childcare centre, and the community ones were full. It turns out that Auto Universe has a creche. Can you believe that?"

Miranda in fact, could not. It brought a whole new light onto what was going on in her building that she had never deigned to see.

"Anyway, one of the boys was in a real spot of bother with his editor, and I offered to look over his work for him, if he could get Kayla a spot in their centre. He agreed, and we had to pretend that she was his kid, one that he'd just found out he had, and we'd meet downstairs out the back once I was done."

"You were proof-reading his work?" Miranda screeched, her brain slamming to a halt. "When on earth were you doing that?"

"Oh, I wasn't doing it on company time," Andréa said, her hands out in surrender. "Not even while I was waiting for the book. "I did it once Kayla was at home in bed."

"What did you do with her once you had the book?"

"We took the subway," Andréa shrugged. "Unless Roy was waiting. He was really good about it."

"Roy? My driver?"

"Um, yeah. I was walking out with her, and we stumbled across him as I was trying to hail a cab. He's driven us ever since."

"In my car?"

"Well, no," Andréa shrugged. "I didn't want you to think I was using you behind your back."

Miranda couldn't wrap her mind around all the things that were going on, right under her nose. The thought that Andréa had been struggling through this, on her own was horrifying to her.

"And this Nate person? Is he the cook?"

"Um, chef, but yeah. He's Kayla's dad. As soon as I had Kayla, and," she rolled her eyes, "working for you I changed. And I guess he didn't. He was still going out, getting wasted and coming home. I didn't have the time to give to him, and Kayla and it was her over him every time."

"I know that problem all too well," Miranda said into her coffee mug. "And this one?" she prompted, motioning to Andréa's stomach.

"Um, yeah," Andréa winced. "A lapse in judgement. Nate came home with flowers and I was lonely. I love Kayla with all my heart, but sometimes I just -"

"Another feeling I know well," Miranda said quietly. "And where is the cook now?"

"Boston. When he got a job offer there, he took off. Didn't tell me, just left a set of relinquishing parental rights form on the kitchen table and took off. Without him working, I couldn't afford the rent, so I sold a lot of things, boxed up a few - they're at Nigel's place. I told him I just needed the room. He doesn't know about Kayla either."

"And where do you leave her now?"

"Sometimes Brad will take her, the guy from Auto Universe, but he has a wife and a baby on the way, so I don't like to do that unless it's an emergency."

"I am absolutely floored," Miranda said, leaning back and studying Andréa. "Either you are _very_ good at being careful, or I am truly the one with her head up her ass."

"Miranda!" Andréa nearly yelled. It felt good to curse, she didn't indulge often, and when she did, she felt like a naughty child, stealing sweets from her grandparent's humbug jar.

"What happened in Paris?"

It was the one thing they never concluded. Miranda had thrown Nigel under a bus, cementing her own career while destroying his. Then, she'd pushed the best assistant out of her life for good, while trying to pay her a backhanded compliment and attempting not to feel the sting of another divorce. All she was thinking about was getting home to her children and discussing the situation with them, and Andréa had been grating on her nerves at the time.

"She had appendicitis," Andréa said. "I apologise if I made it sound like you were at fault for doing what you did. I know what you did was for your own safety, Runway really couldn't have flourished under those people," she spat, "but my baby was sick and I needed to get home."

"And you couldn't have come to me?"

"You were knee deep in Fashion Week, going through a divorce, just stabbed your best friend in the back and mad at me for going out with CHristian, and don't tell me you weren't because I know you know."

"Well," Miranda said, unsure what to say to that.

"I had to go home, and I couldn't think of what else to do, especially after what you'd said to me before we went out there. I came back though."

"You did," Miranda sighed. She remembered walking in, once she'd taken the weekend to discuss Stephen with the girls, and seeing Andréa typing on her computer as if she'd never walked away. They had never mentioned it, though all who had been there knew. THey didn't discuss it either; at least, not within earshot of her.

"Andréa, I'm going to tell you something that you might not realise. I'm not a bitch."

Andréa howled with laughter. Her hand came to rest on Miranda's thigh, making a searing hot impression through Miranda's silk pyjama bottoms.

"Oh, oh I know that," Andréa said, catching a few tears with her fingers. "God, I know that Miranda. I hope I never made you feel like I didn't."

"Quite," Miranda said, not sure what to say to that. "However, the fact remains that I understand what it's like to have nothing. We grew up in abject poverty and were it not for one small act of kindness, I would not be here. So," she took a deep breath. "I want you to move in."

"What?" Andréa screeched. "Are you crazy I can't do that, they'll crucify you. What am I going to do when they find out I'm here. An Editor that they label so viciously, shacked up with a young woman, Miranda, be serious."

"I am," Miranda said, trying to impress upon Andréa the truth. "And I would not be averse to hearing those stories, because I would know the truth."

"Mommy I'm hungwy," a little voice came from the door, ending their talk with a smile.

"We can't have that," Miranda said as she watched Andréa welcome the child onto her knee. "How about we go downstairs and make something. Pancakes?"

"YEY!" the girl cheered. "Can you make bunny ones?"

"No," Miranda said, poking the little girl in the tummy. "But I am very good at Mickey Mouse."

Andréa laughed again as they walked from the room, and Miranda decided that she was going to make Andréa laugh as much as possible. That, coupled with the beaming smile and bright eyes made the world seem perfect to Miranda, and she knew she would need a plan to follow if she had any hope of making this beautiful woman see that she was interested.

Not that she knew whether Andréa was even accepting of the idea. Miranda had long since known she was attracted to women, but a woman in her position needed to be married to fit the criteria society set out for her. Well, she was past working her way to the top. She was done being a martyr for society. She thought she could have a real future with Andréa and she was determined now, to get one.


	3. Chapter 3

It took her all day to think of how to woo Andréa. It wasn't going to be easy, but she was determined. Dinner and dancing was out. Usually she would take a potential suitor to a fancy restaurant and let them parade her around for a while, but Andréa wasn't like that. She thought long and hard about what Andréa had spoken to her about, and decided upon a starting point.

"Andréa?"

The woman came rushing in, her little girl following her, looking grumpy.

"Mommy! You didn't finish my braids."

Andréa rolled her eyes and stood practically to attention before Miranda looking expectantly.

"Yes Miranda?"

"I hadn't meant for you to drop everything," Miranda smiled, patting the footstool next to her for Michaela to clamber up on. "I was wondering whether you'd like to take a walk with me. It is cold, but the exercise would be refreshing, and," she grinned at Michaela. "We could go to the p-a-r-k?"

"Da park! I love da park! Can we go Mommy? Pwease?"

Miranda bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"That is about the only word she can spell perfectly," Andréa chuckled. "I guess I don't have a choice."

"No," Miranda said, recognising the resigned sigh. She didn't want to think Andréa was being forced to go to the park. If face, she could go one better than simply going for a walk. "No, I have a better idea. Why don't you stay here and rest, and if you trust me, I would take Michaela to the park."

"Did I do bad?" the little girl asked suddenly, turning around and looking at Miranda with such sad eyes.

"I don't think so, have you?"

"I don't know, but you cawled me Mikaywa. Mommy only cawls me vat when I'm bad."

The situation was well out of control now and Miranda slumped back on the sofa.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to do something nice for you."

"It's okay," Andréa said,reaching out tentatively, and squeezing Miranda's hand. "I'll go for a walk. It'll do me good."

"I don't want it to be a chore Andréa," Miranda huffed. "I was trying to do something nice."

"Nice?" Andréa said. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said," she said petulantly.

"Why? What are you doing this for? Oh my god! Oh my God! Are you serious? Are you trying to get me to do something? Is that why I'm here?"

"Yes, no! No!"

"Miranda."

Michaela wa crying and Miranda's head felt like it was spinning around, her thoughts were going so fast, and then she watched Andréa walk away again.

"No, no wait. I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what Miranda, what are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to get you to love me!"

Miranda felt her own eyes bug out, as Andréa's did and she realised what she'd said was exactly what she didn't want to say. She pushed past Andréa and fled down the stairs, grabbing her coat and gloves as she did and ran out of the door.

It only really occurred to her when she was in the middle of central park that she had run to escape her own house. Miranda never ran from a fight, but she ran from Andréa and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"You're an old fool," she hissed to herself, pulling her coat higher and wishing she'd thought to bring her hat. It was freezing.

"Miwanda!"

She turned and something small crashed into her middle, making her take a step back with the force. Little Michaela was smiling up at her, her four layers on and rosy red cheeks from the snow.

"You forgot this," Andréa said quietly. "And it takes the little munchkin a while to get ready."

Miranda took her hat without looking at Andréa and pulled it over her ears, sighing as the biting cold eased just a little. Michaela ran off to play with a small group of children just beside them, and Miranda intended to storm off. Andréa's arm in hers stopped her dead in her tracks.

"You left before I had time to process, and so I'm going to say thank you, instead of telling you that you ran away. I want to tell you something."

Miranda was in shock as they walked around the small area where Michaela was playing. To hear Andréa talking about the depth of her feelings for _her_ that actually matched Miranda's was overwhelming. She spoke of Nate leaving, the real reason being that in the heat of the moment, she'd called out a different name, a feminine name that made Miranda's face burn.

"You -"

"I did," Andréa shrugged. "I think I punished myself after that, pulling away from you perhaps, putting those thoughts out of my mind. Why would you ever want me?"

"Want you?" Miranda snorted. "I didn't even know myself until this morning. Seeing Michaela laying in bed with me, imagining you on her other side, snuggled up beside me, imagining -" she blushed again and cleared her throat. "Yes, well."

"Are you serious about this?" Andréa asked. "I can't have a fling with you Miranda, I just couldn't bear it, not with everything I have at stake."

"I would never toss you aside, not like I do with them," she whispered vehemently. "You are so precious to me, and I'm only sorry I didn't realise earlier."

"I, and this isn't because I'm basically homeless?"

"That is what brought you to me, but I do not ordinarily do pity Andréa. I'm more for moving forward, taking the good with the bad and all that pep-talk mumbo jumbo."

And there was that smile. Shining in front of her like the rest of Central Park was a barren wasteland.

"You're beautiful," Miranda whispered.

"I'm also pregnant and attached to a rather rambunctious three year old. Are you going to cope with another two children?"

"I will tell you a secret," Miranda said. "My only regret in the life that i have lived to date is that I did not have more children."

"And the twins? What will they think of this?"

"I do not know," Miranda frowned. "But, they are good girls, and they like you a lot. I'm sure they'll come around.

The continued walking until it got too cold for Miranda's ears.

"Let's go home," she said quietly, rubbing her thumb over Andréa's hand.

"Kayla, come on sweetheart, we've got to go home."

"Aww, Mommy!"

"Come along cherub," Miranda called. "We're having pizza for dinner."

"Pizza!"

"Pizza Miranda?" Andréa said, disbelieving.

"Well, I never said I was above bribery."

Andréa laughed and Michaela slipped her hand into Miranda's, swinging their arms back and forth until she tired.

"I can't walk Mommy."

"No?" Miranda said, looking down. "Are your feet broken?"

"Yup," Michaela answered. "They bwoke off back vere."

"Goodness, I shall have to carry you then if you don't have feet."

Michaela whooped in happiness and threw herself into Miranda's arms. She sat silently all the way home, her little face pushed into the skin of Miranda's neck.

"Dinner then bed, I think," Andréa said quietly.

Miranda had Andréa call for the pizza's as soon as they got home, and she struggled with Michaela's winter gear until she was a little girl again, rather than a tiny version of a Michelin Man.

"There you are," Miranda said, accepting the girl back in her arms once she was free.

"I like you," Michaela whispered. "Can we stay?"

"Oh, I think you can," Miranda said, glancing up at Andréa. "I'd like to keep you _and_ Mommy. Can I do that, do you think?"

"Yup," the sleepy reply said, making them both smile. As they walked up to the sitting room, warmed by the dying fire, Miranda put Michaela on the sofa and went to add more logs.

"Will you," Andréa bit her lip. "Will you dance with me?"

"There's no music in here," Miranda said with a frown.

"Doesn't matter."

She found herself pulled into long, strong arms and fell into the embrace with gusto. Her footwork was seamless, but Andréa seemed content to merely rock in the quiet. They danced like that until the doorbell went and Miranda went to fetch the food. It smelled divine but Michaela was only able to eat a little before passing out again. They let her sleep on the floor where she curled up with Patricia again. In all honesty, Miranda was most worried about how the Twins were going to react to their dog suddenly loving another little girl, albeit one that belonged to their favourite assistant. That bridge would be crossed later, but for now, Andréa was smiling at her.

"What?" she said, wiping her mouth.

"Do you know how happy I am right now?" Andréa asked. "I'm not sure I've been this happy since," she shrugged.

"An oversight on my part," Miranda acknowledged. "But things will be different now."

"I, if we are staying here over Christmas, which by the way is only two days away. I'd, I wonder whether I could put up a small tree somewhere. Out of the way, it doesn't have to be amazing. It's just that Michaela loves Christmas, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do while we were in the shelter.

"I will go one better," Miranda said. "Tomorrow I will call and arrange for a tree and decorator and by the afternoon, it will be perfect."

"Like I said, it doesn't have to be big. In fact, I'm okay with a pot plant really, just something to -"

"Andréa, this will be our first Christmas together," Andréa chuckled. "I want to make it special."

"It is special," Andréa said, making sure to look in her eyes. "It's the most special thing that's ever happened to me."

Miranda nodded and patted the sofa beside her, inviting Andréa to move from the armchair. Miranda's arm went around her shoulders and she heaved a sigh when Andréa's head rested against her chest.

"You are the most amazing woman I know," Andréa whispered eventually, as they watched the crackling embers. "I can't imagine what I've done to deserve you."

"It is I who is out of their league Andréa. But I will make it my mission in life to show you every day what you mean to me. This will not be like my other relationships. As I said to Michaela, I intend to keep you."

"I've never been a kept woman before," Andréa chuckled, looking up from under Miranda's arm.

"That is fine, if that's what you want to do, I have more than enough money."

"No, God no, I couldn't. I'd go mad. But, that can all be worked out later, right now I want something else."

"What?" Miranda said, sitting up. "I'll fetch it for you."

"You, you silly person," Andréa chuckled, pulling Miranda back down. "Only you."

Miranda's groaned wantonly as Andréa's lips touched hers for the first time. She only realised when Andréa's hands travelled the length of her own arms that her hands were resting against her middle, one of her hip and one stroking the skin of her stomach, underneath her shirt.

"You are so beautiful," Miranda repeated, the thought of earlier fresh in her mind. "Not next to you," Andréa whispered, her forehead resting against Miranda's.

"Come to bed with me, sleep there. I, I don't want -"

"I know," Andréa said quietly. "Later, when we've talked more and worked this all out. Until then, I'd love to be held by you."

They locked up the house, hand in hand and then Miranda carried Michaela up the stairs and into her room.

"She can sleep here tonight until we sort something out."

Andréa merely beamed and Miranda found herself falling in love all over again. She went through her nightly routine while Andréa changed Michaela and then waited in bed while Andréa went through her own.

"I thought you said you were eleven weeks!" Miranda said when she saw the tiny bump in her middle.

"I am," Andréa said, taking a step back.

"No, Andréa, I didn't mean offence. I just," she snorted. "I hadn't noticed."

"It's not bad is it?" Andréa asked. Miranda paused, thinking of her own stomach before she'd discovered she was having twins.

"No, no it's not bad," Miranda offered her hand. "Come to bed darling. We can always get you checked out tomorrow."

"After Christmas," Andréa whispered as she settled down between Miranda and Michaela. "I don't want to get in the way."

"You wouldn't be," Miranda said, her heart thumping loudly in her chest as her arms moved of their own accord.

"After Christmas," Andréa repeated and Miranda merely nodded into her neck.

Her arm had gone around Andréa without thought, one under her neck and one around her middle. Andréa shuffled back into her body and she tugged her even closer. Michaela too gravitated towards them, and with a tiny kiss to Andréa's neck, Miranda settled down.

"This is going to be the best Christmas ever," Andréa sighed, kissing her daughter's head.

"Next year will be better," Miranda muttered. "Our whole family will be with us."

A little push against Andréa's abdomen showed her what Miranda meant, but she was also thinking of the twins. By next Christmas, they would all have worked out their differences, and perhaps Miranda would even have married Andréa.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Andréa sighed. "Let's just take it slow."

Miranda waited until Andréa was definitely asleep before pressing a kiss to her temple.

"I love you Andréa."

"Love you too," the woman said, smiling in her sleep.

Miranda had to agree with Andréa's earlier statement and thought of the way her children spoke.

Best. Christmas. Ever.


End file.
